


Under Your Skin

by J (j_writes)



Category: Easy Allies RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: Kyle’s roommate is loud.  They’re loud, and colorful, and kind of nosy, and Kyle decides on day one not to like them very much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [fictional characters based on the internet personas of actual people, doing entirely fictional things.]

Kyle’s roommate is loud. They’re loud, and colorful, and kind of nosy, and Kyle decides on day one not to like them very much. It’s less a decision, really, and more that he shows up, drops his bags on the bed – one neatly organized with everything he remembered he needed, and the other thrown together at the last minute of all the things he’d forgotten about – and Ian barely looks over from where they’re standing on their desk, hanging lights around the window, singing along to the music that’s playing just a little too loud from their computer.

“Hey,” they say breezily. Their hair is tied back in a bandanna, some of it falling into their face, and they’ve got a pair of obnoxiously bright sunglasses perched on top of it, for some unknown reason, given that it’s evening and they’re indoors. “You must be the infamous Kyle Bosman.” They’d exchanged emails over the summer – logistics, which of them owned a fridge, the bare details of who each other was, but somehow “film major, not really a dude, lactose intolerant” hadn’t been quite the preparation Kyle needed to walk into the place that was supposed to be his sanctuary this semester and find half of it a riot of color and activity, art pieces and half-emptied suitcases propped haphazardly against the furniture.

They get settled, and they don’t quite fight. They start to spar on day three, testing each other’s limits, start to outright bicker at the end of week one, and by the time Kyle meets Ian’s friends – even louder than Ian is, even more overwhelming – the loudest and most overwhelming of them starts laughing uproariously at the interactions between the two of them, dropping an arm companionably around Kyle’s shoulders and declaring them the oldest, most married couple he’s ever met.

“Please, Huber,” Ian says, rolling their eyes, “no one’s more married than you and Brad,” but they shoot Kyle a grin that’s almost teasing, almost like flirting, and Kyle feels something swoop uncomfortably in his stomach.

It’s all downhill from there, the decision not to like Ian melting away into unwillingly liking them too much, now annoyed by their singing under their breath as they work because he wants to listen endlessly, bothered not just by the smell of their nail polish, but by how unreasonably pretty it looks when they drop a hand to Kyle’s arm to catch his attention when he’s got headphones on, uncomfortable with the easy way they touch him because he can’t get enough of it, wants to lean into it instead of pull away.

It’s sometime early in month two when Kyle’s lying awake at night, watching the shadows from the tree outside play across the ceiling, trying not to listen to the rustle of Ian rolling over restlessly beside him, and he sees Ian prop themself up on an arm out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” they say quietly. "You awake?“

“Mngh,” Kyle mumbles in reply.

“So, I’ve been wondering,” Ian says. “You always this quiet?”

“What?” Kyle rolls over to look at them in the darkness.

“You know.” Ian waves a hand. "Here, in the room. You’re always just…you study, or you watch stuff, and you’ve always got headphones on, always have that stupid hoodie up. And, like – I’ve seen you at dinner and between classes or whatever, and you're…I mean, you’re funny. You talk to people. It just seems like…you don’t want to talk to me that much.“ Kyle groans, tilting his face into the pillow. "Or you do,” Ian continues, “and we just fight. Which is cool, like, that’s how we communicate, I kinda like it, but…” there’s a shifting noise as they shrug. "I mean, your buddy Jones is an RA, right? It’s late enough in the semester that things have probably shuffled around a little. We might be able to petition to get you a single, if you don’t want me around.“

Kyle sighs. "I don’t not want you around, Ian,” he says, and it’s not until the words are out of his mouth that he realizes he means them. Somehow, through a month of adjusting to Ian – to their quirks and their occasional bouts of moodiness and the way that everything they do makes him want to fight back, tell them exactly how wrong they are – he realizes that he’d miss that. That the idea of his sanctuary, that quiet blank room he’d go back to after class, suddenly feels incomplete without the sound of Ian humming on their side of the room, the moments of distraction he gets from watching a video take shape on their computer screen, the way he’ll wake in the morning to find a fresh cup of coffee with an insulting post-it note stuck on it waiting for him. "I actually…I think I _do_ want you around.“

The dim light is enough to show him the conflicted expression on Ian’s face, halfway between lighting up and looking suspicious. "No need to sound so surprised, Bossy.”

“I didn’t want to,” Kyle says. He sits up, pulling his knees to his chest, and looking across the room at Ian. "I’m not going to lie, you annoy the crap out of me sometimes, but…no. I don’t want a single.“

"So you’re not avoiding talking to me?” Ian raises their eyebrows in almost a challenge, and Kyle shifts his eyes away. “Aha!” Ian sits up too, pointing at him. "See, I knew it. So if you don’t hate me…” They trail off, looking at him. "Kyle…"

He looks away. "Look, is there any chance we can not talk about this?“ he interrupts. “I’ll talk to you more often, if that’s what you want, can we just – ”

A smile’s spreading across Ian’s face, though, as they lean forward to look at him intently. "Oh my god,“ they say delightedly, "Brad was right. You _do_ have a thing for me.”

“I don’t have a – ” Kyle begins, and cuts himself off. "Wait, what does Brad have to do with anything?“

"Oh, like the first time you hung out with us, he was all ‘dude, he’s totally into you,’ and I thought he was full of shit.”

“He…was?” Kyle offers weakly, but somehow Ian’s reaction is draining the emphasis from his words, their face more intrigued and interested than repulsed, and he can’t help but add, “But I mean, if I did, you…wouldn’t have a problem with that?”

Ian laughs. "A problem? Bossy, I’ve been complimenting your ass and telling you that girls should be throwing themselves at you for like a month, did you want me to be more obvious somehow? I just, you know. Figured girls were what you were into.“ Ian hesitates, looking uncomfortable for the first time. "I mean. Girls that are…”

“I…am?” Kyle offers, and cringes as Ian’s face falls. “I mean, I was? I mean…I don’t know what I’m into, Ian. I’ve dated girls, and now I – ” he hesitates, not quite wanting to put it into words, “well, Brad wasn’t wrong.”

“Yeah?” Ian peers at him hopefully across the wide dark gulf between their beds, and Kyle nods.

“Yeah.”

“Can I…” Ian swings their legs off their bed. They’re in tiny shorts, their legs long and pale in the dark, looking like some kind of painting, some moment of anticipation frozen in art, and part of Kyle doesn’t want it to break, wants to stay there taking in how beautiful Ian looks with their tousled hair and sleepy eyes and bare skin, but the other part of him lets out a breath of relief as Ian continues, “could I come over there?”

It’s one of those moments in life that can’t be turned back from, and Kyle wants to hesitate, wants to think about it logically, reasonably, but he nods instead, saying, “Yeah,” in a choked voice, and scooting over to make room for Ian in the bed beside him.

He’s not sure what he expects, but it’s not Ian settling in with their back to him, fitting against him as a perfect little spoon, and letting out a deep and contented sigh as they burrow their face into his pillow. “I don’t sleep great,” they mumble, and yeah, he’s noticed, so he lets an arm carefully drop around Ian, holding it stiff around their waist, not quite touching them, instead of replying. “Sometimes I wake up, and I can’t get back to sleep, and I look over here and…” Ian’s fingers tangle into his, tugging his hand to their chest, shaking his arm loose at the elbow. “Chill, Bosman. You’re like a freaking board.” Kyle gradually relaxes against Ian’s back, and Ian sighs happily. "And I want to do this,“ they say, their words already fading into a tired jumble of sleepy sounds. "This is…” they hum quietly. "’s nice, isn’t it?“

"Yeah,” Kyle says, his voice hardly more than a whisper, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of Ian pressed close and warm against him, quiet and sleepy in his arms. "It is. It’s nice.”

“Shhh,” Ian says, reaching a hand over their shoulder, pressing a finger to his lips. “Quiet, Bossy. ‘m sleeping.”

Kyle feels his lips curve into a smile under Ian’s touch, and by the time their hand falls away, Kyle’s eyes are closed, his forehead tipping against the back of Ian’s neck, already drifting off into sleep as well.


End file.
